#tales from the depression pit

[melancholic-pigeon]

OOF.

okay.

Uh.

Yeah I am not okay and I need to stop saying I am because I'm not.

This flare-up of depression since quitting nicotine has gotten extremely, extremely bad, and I'm basically either crying or lying in bed staring at the wall failing to sleep. I don't like to inflict myself on others when I feel like this, but that's actually somewhat counterproductive because it means I self-isolate which makes the depression worse etc etc.

So. Uh. Yeah. I'm really struggling and not doing well at all, and I'm not sure anymore if my stubbornness is enough that I'll be fine eventually. It's getting harder.

I don't want to scare anyone, I don't think I'm in danger and if I were I would go to the hospital, but uh. Yeah. Stuff that's going on with me. It's not great and I'm a lying liar who lies by constantly insisting I'm either totally okay or will be, and I'm trying to break myself of that habit.

It just...it's really, really bad tonight.

[bombuni]

contains: poly!ateez x gn!reader, soft ateez taking care of u, non-verbal and self-isolating reader, implied depressed/chronically ill reader

you: babies i think it’s better if you don’t come over tonight

joong: Everything ok?

minmin: but im hungry and u said u’d make dinner :(

woo: WE’RE HUNGRY!!! OM NOM NOM

you: just not feeling it tonight. sorry

You shut your phone off with guilt weighing in your heart. You had promised your boys a nice home-made dinner after a hard week full of non-stop practicing. You knew they’d been looking forward to it the entire week, the stress-free time they’d get to spend with you, but, there’s a pit in your stomach that’s been growing the past week and now it’s big enough to stop you from doing anything else but wallow in your thoughts. Now the guilt just adds to it.

There’s times when you don’t have energy for anything. Not even for your favorite people on Earth and it’s simply your body’s fault. At least you try to tell yourself that.

There’s no response to your last message and you sent it an hour ago. Usually you’d be suspicious about the lack of whining and bickering, but you’re just too tired to worry as fatigue fogs your senses. You’re set for a night of self-pity when your front door unlocks, myriads of voices barging in and breaking the calm of your apartment. You already feel a headache coming on as Wooyoung, like usual, argues about whatever hill he’s chosen to die on.

You want to get up to greet them, but somethings stopping you. The pit in your stomach almost weighs you down, your limbs too heavy to move now. You sigh and surrender to your body’s fatigue.

Seonghwa watches you with a sad look on his face. He knows all the tell-tale signs of your sad ruts by now, the most obvious of all being when you go out of your way to isolate yourself. It hurts him because he wants to help you, but he‘s not quite sure how to do it right with you.

“Sweet thing,” he coos quietly and lays a gentle hand atop yours, “how do you feel?”

His attention turns a switch on in you, feeling yourself melt against his soft touch and caring voice. You shrug, feeling a loss of words. You don’t really have any to describe how you feel. Or rather, there’s a boulder in your throat stopping you from even attempting to say anything.

Hongjoong and San walk over, the latter immediately scooping you up into his arms despite Seonghwa’s protests. Hongjoong leans over the back of the couch, carding his fingers through your hair and tutting at the state you’re in.

“You’re not getting rid of us that easy, you know,” he mumbles.

San looks right at you even if you won’t meet his eyes, trying his best to communicate the worry he has because he knows words don’t work with you when you’re like this. Seonghwa flicks San’s forehead, pulling a loud noise of protest out of him, “Aren’t you supposed to be helping in the kitchen?”

San responds by pulling you tightly against him and closing his eyes in bliss. Seonghwa grumbles something about disrespect, but walks away to help in the kitchen himself. It’s starting to feel a little warm with San’s irresistible need to touch you and Hongjoong’s eyes not once leaving your form. It gets unbearably hot when you feel Mingi’s lips against the crown of your head, Wooyoung doing the same and immediately jumping into gently scolding you for pushing them away.

Hongjoong wants to agree but he knows it’s not what you need right now. He shushes Wooyoung, “Did you take your meds yet?”

You shake your head. Yunho walks up to you, bending down to hand you your medicine with a kind smile on his face. He takes your hand in his when you swallow your pills, kissing each of your knuckles gently, as if he fears scaring you away.

“Here.” Yeosang passes you a glass of water. There’s eight pairs of eyes on you and you can feel each one. It’s like they’re watching a zoo animal on display and you’d laugh at the thought in any other circumstance.

Jongho stands across you, intently staring you down, “You know you can’t just expect us to leave you alone, right?”

San pulls your head into his chest and throws protective arms over you as if you’re a kid getting a scolding, “Don’t be mean.”

Jongho is about to retort before Seonghwa stops him, “Ok! Ok, what Jongho means,” he kneels down next to Yunho with a gentle expression aimed at you, “Is that we want to help you, sweetheart. And it’s hard to do that when you don’t allow us to,”

Yeosang scratches at his neck as he finds the words, “We know it’s hard for you to do that, but…”

Hongjoong continues for him, “We’re just asking that you try at least. Okay?”

You hesitantly nod into San’s chest and you feel him let out a sigh of relief. Wooyoung speaks up from behind you, “You’re hogging ‘em, Sannie,”

He shakes his head violently and hugs you tighter, “No ‘m not.”

Mingi grimaces, “You totally are.”

It’s all-out war again and your body shakes between theirs as each one tries to take you for themselves. San’s still got a good grip on you as Yunho, Seonghwa, and Jongho fight to pull him off of you. Wooyoung and Mingi stand back and argue with San, really the only thing they’re good for. Hongjoong and Yeosang grimace and watch the events unfold, only waiting to step in if they notice you get overwhelmed.

But you don’t. You feel warm and loved and happy, and there’s a bubble of laughter forming in your throat and surpassing the boulder that was stuck in you before. You’ll take it one step at a time, and they’ll take that step with you.

bom note: this is for the gays with chronic fear of being emotionally vulnerable. i tried to make readers issues as vague as possible for u. Also realistically i would not want 8 men all up in my space when im in one of these moods but it’s fantasy ok shhh

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 17

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n today's self promo is catskin which is a felix x reader fantasy/fairy tale oneshot that i am pleased enough with that i might write a part two. anyway, here's more of the drama you're really here for.

previous | masterlist | next

---

At 6:05 on the dot, there's a knock on your door.

He must have been up all night waiting for your text, you think as you answer it, the way that he'd made it down the stairs within five minutes of your alarm going off. You're still in your pyjamas, a hoodie thrown over the top when you'd dragged yourself out of bed to combat the early-morning cold of your apartment. 

The boys waiting outside your door are dressed similarly, at least, padding around in clothes they've chosen at random from a laundry hamper somewhere and shoes that they kick off as soon as they pass through your doorway. You're not surprised to see Chan, hair sticking up at every end like he's gotten straight out of bed for this and not bothered to even try to stick it back down again, but you are surprised to see Changbin. You don't think you've ever seen or heard a peep from Changbin at this time of the morning.

"Good morning," Chan says as you close the door, lingering within arm's reach as Changbin wanders his way further into your apartment like he's looking for something.

"Good morning," you echo, your attention divided between the two of them. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Chan hedges, hesitating like he's not decided yet what he's going to say next. "Changbin is here to steal your cereal."

"Hyunjin ate all of mine," Changbin says, his feet carrying him one step closer to the kitchen in question.

You wave him towards it, despite warnings you've been given against ever giving him free reign over your pantry. "There's eggs in the fridge too if you want them," you offer, and your heart lifts at the way his face lights up. It's funny how such a little thing could cause such simple joy.

"Gamsamnida, noona," he says, and disappears into your kitchen. 

Chan steps into your line of vision.

"What are you doing here?" you ask when he doesn't immediately say anything, though the pit in your stomach and the sleepless night unravelling behind you say that you already know the answer.

He draws in a breath and holds it, anticipation paling his face just enough for you to notice. "I'm being honest," he says, his eyes flicking up to the kitchen door. Changbin doesn't appear - he's busy making a lot of noise with your pans in there, the slam of a cupboard door a little too obvious to be anything but deliberate. "I promised I'd be honest with you, so...I'm here."

"About the things they're saying online, or what's going to happen next?" you question; and you don't miss the way that his face falls, his brow tightening imperceptibly.

"You've seen it," he sighs, as if he'd been hoping for something different.

A grim smile twists itself around your mouth. "It's trending," you point out. "It's kind of hard to miss."

"True." He looks away, eyes casting behind him to where Changbin is being deliberately noisy in the kitchen as he hunts through your cabinets for something. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you question. "You didn't do anything."

"They're my fans," he says and then blinks, correcting himself. "Our fans - if something I've done makes them think-"

You've seen the messages he's talking about, the back-and-forth between fans debating whether this was his idea or something that had been forced upon him by the company. Always Chan - Chan's group, Chan's members, Chan's decision. If the trending tags were anything to be believed, the general consensus was that the Chan they knew and loved would never do this to them, nor would he endorse it. It was obvious that you had forced your way into the group, and at first opportunity he would drop you right back out again; if only they screamed loudly enough in opposition, JYP would give him that choice quicker.

You didn't find that daunting at all. There wasn't a black pit opening inside your gut every time you thought about it, the urge to get back to the practice rooms and gruelling hours of work scratching at your skin. 

"You're acting like you told them to do this," you tell him wryly, and the corner of his mouth quirks upwards. Nearly a smile, despite how sardonic it feels. 

"I definitely did not," he answers, a hand pressed to his chest in honesty. "I meant what I said the other day. You're one of my people now."

Inexplicably, warmth blooms in your chest around the icy cold that has had a stranglehold around your stomach since you'd first seen...well, everything that's happening. The reminder of the conversation you'd had before all of this began is timely - it was easy to forget sometimes, around the screaming of a thousand voices that it couldn't be true, that he had chosen you, in a backwards way. That all of this was only happening now because he'd fought with the company for you. Because he'd won the fight, a feat you've never seen accomplished before, in a long career of letdowns.

Your teeth grit together at the thought of those voices online, hiding behind screens as if they know anything about what’s happened in the last three months or even the past six years. You had forgotten for a while last night, all the things that Chan had said; you’d felt like throwing something across the room, God’s Menu playing over and over through a tinny speaker until your body moved without thinking. You’ve contained most of that rage since, under the assurance that none of them know what they’re talking about, and truly, you don’t think that you’ll really care at all as the days wear on; but still-

"Someone should have told them that," you say without thinking, and then watch as Chan's brow furrows. "Sorry. I didn't mean you. It's not your fault."

"Someone will," he replies. "Once I've been to this meeting with management. Which I am probably going to be late for."

His phone appears in his hand, the screen lighting up to show him the time. "If you have to go-" you begin to say, already moving out of the way of the door.

"He's eating breakfast first," Changbin says from the kitchen door before Chan can argue with you himself. 

"Am I?" Chan asks; but his voice is mild and his feet are already turning towards Changbin, all the fight draining from his body before he has even begun.

"You think I'm going to eat all of the eggs myself?" Changbin fires right back. "I'm not a pig."

"But I thought you were a pig, Changbin," Chan says and watches in amusement as the sound of Changbin shouting indignantly fills the air of your apartment.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya @keepswingin

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Eight: [The Platform]

Summary: When Jake wakes up beside you after seeking refuge in your company, he’s forced to face a nightmare he thought would only ever exist in his mind.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Monday - August 14th 2023. Present Day

According to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, when we are dying or have suffered a catastrophic loss, we all move through five stages of grief. We go into denial because the loss is so unthinkable we can’t imagine it’s true. 

We become angry with everyone, angry with survivors, angry with ourselves, then we bargain. We beg, we plead. We offer everything we have. We offer up our souls in exchange for just one more day. 

When the bargaining has failed and the anger is too hard to maintain, we fall into depression, despair, until finally we have to accept that we have done everything that we can. 

We let go. We let go and move into acceptance. Or not. 

Jake didn’t know what the time was when he woke up. He didn’t want to know if it had been two hours or twenty, all he cared about was that he could feel you next to him. He could feel the weight of your bed dip next to him from where you slept soundly, peacefully. Most of it in his warm embrace, some most likely on your side. 

Jake rolled over under the sheet that kept his body from being completely exposed—usually he wouldn’t mind. He was a confident man with the women he chose to spend his nights with. Not that he had been spending nights with anyone besides you since before the mission. 

Usually he wouldn’t mind, he had a pretty good body. But now that Jake's body was battered and bruised, marked and scared beyond repair, he cared. He cared about the flimsy sheet that kept him semi-covered. He didn’t recognise himself in the mirror anymore, but with you? He felt safe, secure in his new insecurities. 

“Hollywood—“ Jake mumbled as he drew you closer. “You awake?” He mumbled into your hair, taking the moment to inhale the sweet smell of your shampoo. Bergamot and notes of vanilla. When you didn’t stir Jake kissed your shoulder. “Y/n? You awake?” Jake tried again but was still met with nothing. “Hollywood?” 

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Jake's stomach he wasn’t a fan of when you didn’t stir, when you didn’t acknowledge him like you normally would. He took a second to realise just how cold you were to the touch. How still you were in his warm embrace. 

How there was no rise and fall from the breathing pattern Jake had become so accustomed to these past few weeks, from all the nights you’d spent in each other's arms fighting off each other’s demons. Protecting one another from the darkest corners of the world. 

It wasn’t all that uncommon for Jake to wake up for you having an all out attack. Your Asthma was something of an enigma to the doctors and nurses that had taken care of you. Some believed it was all psychological, others believed it was a combination of your deteriorating health and the conditions you were kept in. 

Regardless—it scared the hell out of Jake whenever he woke up and you couldn’t breathe. But they were always loud and terrifying attacks. They were never silent. 

“Hey, Y/n?” Jake shook you a little to see if you’d react, but when all your body did was fall limp against him? Jake sprung up as fast as he could to find his phone. “No no no no no no—!” 

Once upon a time, happily ever after. The stories we tell are all just the stuff of dreams. Fairy tales don’t come true. Reality is much stormier. Much murkier. More scarier. 

“Y/n! Stay with me alright.” Jake begged as his hands shook, dialing for an ambulance as he turned back to look at you lying lifeless in your own bed, the safest place on earth. “Please don’t leave me now.” He begged, waiting for the operator to pick up. “Where the fuck is it?” He was looking for your inhaler, the red one with the warning labels on it. It was usually on your bedside table. You kept a blue one in your car and a green one in your bag. You always had one. Yet the one beside your bed was gone? 

“Hello, nine one one?” Reality, it’s so much more interesting than living happily ever after. Jake spotted the little red inhaler under your bed, the top was only just visible. Then it hit him. What if it had fallen off last night? When the bed was shaking and you were on top? The only place you deserved to be. In control and facing your fears. 

“I need an ambulance!” Jake cried. “I can’t save her.” He sobbed, it was his nightmare, the one that brought him to your front porch in the middle of the night more often than not. The one where you were taken away from him. “Please—please she needs an ambulance!” It rivaled the one where he was forced to hurt you. 

Jake gave all the information the operator on the other end of the line needed before he was back by your side. He was careful in his movements as you lifted your limp and lifeless body up off your bed and onto the ground. Kneeling beside you, Jake kept the operator on the phone while he started CPR. This he knew how to do. 

“Come on baby, don’t get off the train, stay with me.” It wasn’t the first time Jake had given CPR, but it was the first time he’d given it to someone he loved. “Please stay with me.” It was a rhythm no one wanted to fall into, that lifesaving rhythm while rib’s threatened to crack under the pressure. “Don’t you dare leave me here, not now.” One two three four and so on and so forth, Jake kept pressing the palms of his hands into your chest. “Not ever, you hear me? You don’t get to just leave me here.” 

You couldn’t die, not now. How on earth was this how you died? Why did you go through so much trauma, so much pain, so much suffering just to die silently in your sleep in your bed next to the man you wanted nothing more to love till the end of time. 

“No no no no, come on baby, come on!” Jake wasn’t about to give up on you. You’d been through too much. “Come on stay with me, just a little longer, yeah?” He wanted you to say okay. That you’d stay just a little while longer. But as Jake's cries for help echoed through your home he knew that you weren’t coming back. “HELP ME! SOMEONE!” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The dictionary defines grief as keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss, sharp sorrow, painful regret. As aviators, you’re taught to learn from and rely on the books, the tests, the science behind it all, the definitions, the definitives. 

But in life, strict definitions rarely apply. In life, grief can look like a lot of things that bear little resemblance to sharp sorrow. 

Bradley Bradshaw had known Jake Seresin for almost his entire Naval career. The two had been at odds for most of that time, both too proud to admit their own flaws. They had both been the reason behind each other's callsigns, in heated arguments at whatever bar they found themselves in or after training sessions gone wrong. 

Hangman was the stuff of every aviator's nightmares. A cautionary tale that told whoever was paired up with Jake Seresin, that they would get left behind. But Jake had proven time and time again that when it really came down to it, when it really mattered, when it was life or death and nothing in between—he wouldn’t leave his wingman behind, or his weapon’s system officer for that matter. 

And as Bradley watched Jake crumble into the chest of the doctor who’d just told him you weren’t coming back, he knew that Hangman was dead too. He’d been dead since he was shot down. 

“The asthma was new, from our best guess we’d say it was a direct result of the environment you were both held in.” The doctor had explained, he was the one who treated you initially. “She had a lot of build up in her lungs, dirt, dust, it caused an infection we thought we had combat, but it looks as if it came back stronger then the first time and she didn’t say anything to indicate otherwise.” The one who bandaged you up and put you back together enough so that your inner demons couldn’t wreak havoc on the world. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, Hollywood was a good woman.” It meant nothing to Jake—he’d stopped listening after the initial ‘Im sorry’ had come out of Doctor Stevens' mouth. There was nothing else to do but process the fact you’d left him behind. 

And it felt like you’d done it on purpose too. Because you would have told him something was wrong if you were sick, but you hadn’t said a word. 

“Hangman–” Bradley cooed from where he stood by the door of one of the empty patient rooms Jake had found himself in. He was lost, lost in a world without you. Left behind to navigate through his own trauma. “Why don't I take you home?” For Jake it had been only a few minutes since he was officially told you were dead–the last thing he ever expected to hear after everything you had survived. He thought you were invincible, his wonderwoman of unbreakable strength and determination. But in reality, where happily ever afters didn’t exist, it had been three whole hours. “Jake? I'll take you anywhere you wanna go man, but you can't stay here.” 

“I saw her tortured Rooster.” It was the first thing Jake had said since he’d been told that you weren’t coming back to him. “I saw her have her bones broken and her body used against her.” Jake's voice was far too calm for Bradley’s liking, he needed Jake to shout, to be angry, to grieve. “She fought so hard to stay alive.” Ah. There it was, the tone Rooster was looking for as he stood across the empty space, watching as Jake stood to his feet. Hands balls at his sides. 

“She did whatever she had to do to stay alive and she did whatever she had to do to keep me alive!” Jake seethed through gritted teeth as he took a few heavy steps towards Rooster. Bradley didn’t dare move. “And believe me Bradshaw I wanted to die, I wanted them to kill me just so I didn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing that everything she went through, everything she felt, everything they did to her was a direct result of my actions!” Jake explained as he blamed himself even more for everything that happened. “She begged me to kill her because she knew what they would do to her and I couldn’t, I was selfish because I didn’t want to live in a world without her and guess what they did!?” Jake growled as he punched the wall beside him, his fist went straight through the drywall. “They did exactly what she knew they would do, one by one, day after day.” 

“Jake—“ Bradley tried to intervene but all Jake did was turn around and swipe his arms across the medical cart, throwing everything that had been splayed across the top to the floor in a fit of rage. 

“And after everything! After we survived! SHE GOES AND DIES FROM AN ASTHMA  ATTACK IN HER SLEEP!? RIGHT THERE IN MY ARMS!?” Rooster knew what it was like to lose a loved one, he’d already lost far too many, but he didn’t know what it was like to lose the love of your life. 

“Jake—“ Bradley tried again but it was to no avail. Jake was unraveling at his very thin seams. “They couldn’t have predicted it.” 

“IT'S THEIR JOB TO PREDICT IT!” Jake shouted as loud as he could, so loud he was red in the face as tears streamed down his cheeks. “JUST LIKE IT WAS MY JOB TO PREVENT THIS FROM EVER HAPPENING.” He shook his head in disbelief all the while he looked up to whatever god was on deck that day. “Just like it was my job to keep her safe.” 

“None of this is your fault.” Bradley tried to reason with the shattered man who stood before him. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened man—it was an asthma attack.” 

“I was going after you.” Jake finally admitted what he’d been doing when the pair of you were struck. You knew, you were Jake's first, only and last weapons system officer. You knew what he was doing before he’d even gone ahead and executed his plan. That decision caused your pain, your torment, your death. 

“What are you doing man.” Bradley sighed at the words his wingman spoke. He’d never seen Jake so distraught before. “Hollywood wouldn’t want you to be like this.” 

“It should have been you—That SAM was yours, Rooster.” Jake hissed through gritted teeth as he stood toe to toe with Bradley. “And because you’re so full of chicken shit, I took the hit for you.” It didn’t take long for Jake to correct what he’d said as he pressed his finger into Roosters chest. “We, took the hit for you and now she’s dead.”

Jake hadn’t yet passed his psych eval, he hadn’t yet returned to work because he still took medication for his heart. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to, but without you? There was no way in hell he was going back. He couldn’t breathe without you, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. How was he supposed to ever fly again? Without his one and only WSO. 

“And now more than anything—“ Jake couldn’t drown out your screams, he couldn’t stop his brain from hearing your gut wrenching shrills of pain. He couldn’t turn it off—the guilt, the fear, the anger. But he was still here, and you were gone. Standing on the platform watching him go by at two hundred miles an hour. Begging him to get off the train and join you.

Because the farm was just perfect, and nothing hurt anymore. 

In aviation training, there are a hundred different classes that teach you how to fight off death. But in those hundreds of classes there is not a single one that teaches you how to go on living. 

Oh what Jake Seresin would give to get off the train with you.

“I wish I was too.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

[humansofnewyork]

(41/54) “Mitra couldn’t sleep without me. On the nights when I came home late, I’d always find her awake listening to tapes. We still read poetry together. Even in the midst of the chaos, even on the darkest nights, even if only for twenty minutes. It was my greatest comfort. The time when I felt most at peace. One of the most famous love stories in all of Shahnameh is the tale of Bijan and Manijeh. It’s a special story. Because it’s the one time in Shahnameh when Ferdowsi reveals a glimpse of his own life. He writes in the chapter’s opening that he has fallen into a great depression. He describes a night so dark that no birds sing. He calls for his wife to join him, and she brings him a candle. She offers to tell him a story, and Ferdowsi agrees to weave it into verse. She tells him the story of Bijan and Manijeh. Bijan is a champion of Iran. Manijeh is the daughter of an enemy king. By chance they meet in the forest, and Manijeh mistakes Bijan for an angel. She falls in love at first sight. She smuggles him back to her palace, and they spend several nights in each other’s arms. Until their love is discovered by the king. He grows so angry that he cries tears of blood. He banishes Manijeh from the palace. And he sentences Bijan to a fate worse than death. Total darkness. Bijan is chained to the bottom of the deepest pit, and a stone is rolled over the entrance. But Manijeh will not allow him to die. She roams the countryside, begging for food. She digs a hole beneath the stone, just large enough to fit her hand. And she keeps Bijan alive. One handful at a time.”

 میترا بی من خوابش نمی‌برد. شبها که دیر به خانه بر‌می‌گشتم، میترا را چشم به راه، گوش به آهنگ‌ها و ترانه‌ها می‌دیدم. هنوز برای یکدیگر شعر می‌خواندیم. در میان آشوب، در تاریکی شب. اگر هم کوتاه، دمی پایدار و دلپذیر در زندگی‌ما بود. یکی از پرآوازه‌ترین داستان‌های عاشقانه‌ی شاهنامه، داستان بیژن و منیژه است. فردوسی تنها یکبار در شاهنامه گوشه‌ای از زندگی‌اش را می‌نمایاند. در آغاز داستان، فردوسی سخن از افسردگی خود می‌گوید: شبی چون شبه روی شُسته به قیر / نه بهرام پیدا، نه کیوان، نه تیر / نه آوای مرغ و نه هرای دد / زمانه زبان بسته از نیک و بد / بدان تنگی اندر، بجَستم ز جای / یکی مهربان بودم اندر سرای / مِی آورد و نار و تُرنج و بِهی / زُدوده یکی جام شاهنشهی / دلم بر همه کار پیروز کرد / شب تیره همچون گه روز کرد. در چنین شبی همسرش برایش داستانی می‌گوید تا آنرا با زبان شیوایش بسراید. مرا گفت برخیز و دل شاد دار / روان را ز درد و غم آزاد دار / نگر تا که دل را نداری تباه / ز اندیشه و داد فریاد خواه / جهان، چون گذاری، همی بگذرد / خردمند مردم چرا غم خورد؟ همسرش داستان بیژن و منیژه را برایش بازمی‌گوید. بیژن سردار جوان ایرانی از دوده‌ی پهلوانان بزرگ ایران و منیژه دخت افراسیاب، تورانشاه: شود کوه آهن چو دریای آب / اگر بشنود نام افراسیاب. یکدیگر را در جنگل اَرمان می‌بینند. بیژن به فرمان کِی‌خسرو به کشتن گرازان آمده است .منیژه بیژن را پریزاده‌ای به زیبایی سیاوش می‌پندارد، بیژن می‌گوید: سیاوش نی‌اَم، نَز پریزادگان / از ایرانم، از شهر آزادگان. منیژه به او دل می‌بازد و او را پنهانی به کاخ خود می‌برد و شبی چند را با شور و شادی می‌گذرانند. افراسیاب آگاه می‌شود، بیژن را در چاه و منیژه را در کوی و برزن رها می‌کند. منیژه، شاهدخت زیبای بی‌پروا، روزها لب نانی می‌جوید تا خود و بیژن زنده بمانند. او سوراخی زیر سنگ ‌کَنده بود، به اندازه‌ی یک مُشت

[phoenix-fell]

RWBY emotions and the stages of grief

Okay, hear me out and I’m sorry this is a long one but I’m just a bit intrigued by the emotions of our girls and how they’re being shown. (And a little tired of RWDE folk ripping it to shreds for the comedic outputs). I do feel like the girls mildly symbolise 4/5 of the stages of grief - which I’ll weave in throughout.

We have an obvious loss of innocence/purity and hope from Ruby - which I think is going to be especially interesting in the next couple of episodes, because while Blake has taken the reigns a little here and there, we know that WBY get shrunk and it’s going to force Ruby back into carrying her team (literally).

I quite liked in the last episode just how detached Ruby is from everything; from not noticing the Bees flirting, to not really engaging with the fact Yang is looking for her arm at the auction, to after the auction when she’s just completely oblivious to everyone’s conversation and focused on the sword. I think CRWBY have done a great job of framing her as isolated and detached, or ‘Depression’ - seeing as she speed-ran the first 3 grief stages.

Weiss, though, I feel might be just as interesting. She was framed alongside Ruby when the Bees were having a pun-off. She’s been thrust forward as the comic relief as she struggles to understand the world around her. I know Ruby is heading for a breakdown, but I don’t think Weiss is far behind. 

Since the beginning, she’s been ‘Defiance’, a carefully put-together character who likes to be in control of the situation. But now, it’s not just that she’s somewhere unfamiliar; their entire plan fell apart, she watched her friend die in front of her, she has no home, no school, no idea whether she saved anyone and no idea how to get out of the world she’s been dropped into. When the cracks start to show, she’s often framed without her face, because she’s still keeping so much inside, trying to regain control whilst trying to process the fact she has nothing to go back to in Remnant. She’s had blatant evidence to suggest she’s in a fairy tale, but remains in ‘Denial’. Because, if she is, she can’t control that, right? She’s just walking through someone else’s story.

I feel like Yang has been extra ‘brawler’ the last couple of episodes which I feel is because her go-to is to exude strength in these types of situations, it’s her coping mechanism. The first time we see her she bursts into the scene throwing rocks at the Jabberwalker, her first interaction is an outburst because she failed to keep her sister safe and at the auction it’s clear she’s pissed at the Racoon, possibly because losing her arm is so inherently tied to her ability to fight and keep people safe. She seems to reflect ‘Anger’. 

While Blake might just be coming out of a cocoon of character development - if she’s pushing forward a Bumbleby arc then I have to believe that feral Blake at the end of last season was when something snapped, but she’s having an easier time remaining composed because ultimately, the worst DID happen - and then she found Yang again, she has a second chance, away, removed from the chaos and war of the world they’ve fallen from and now has a second to breathe and let herself feel. Blake finds comfort in being in a story she knows, because she’s learned the moral of it, and wants to avoid the pit-falls that Alyx did - essentially, ‘Bargain’ her way through to a happier outcome.

I feel like either Ruby’s, Jaune’s, or Neo’s arcs (or maybe even all three, or everyone’s) will inevitably lead to Acceptance. Whether that’s accepting the loss of their loved one, accepting the love of others, accepting your own feelings, that you can’t always be the hero/save everyone or accepting you won’t always be in control.

[scotianostra]

I love days when I get an excuse to post music hre, and I hope you enjoy the third helping, the tale bhind the song is a cracker too......

Johnny Ramensky, the Scottish safe cracker was born on April 6th 1905 in Glenboig, Lanarkshire.

His father was a Lithuanian immigrant miner who died when Johnny was young and the young Ramensky also became a miner. It was while he was down the pit that he learned his skills with dynamite which were to prove so useful to him in later years.

Johnny drifted in and out of trouble from the age of eleven and moved to the Gorbals area of Glasgow during the Depression with his mother and two sisters. He developed an amazing physical strength and acrobatic ability but in order to obtain some money, he became a burglar, specializing in robberies involving climbing up external rone-pipes to gain entry to premises. He also developed skills in picking locks and safe-cracking with explosives.

He won the nickname Gentle Johnny because he never used violence. And he escaped from prison several times, even staging a rooftop protest at Barlinnie in 1931. Johnny was what you would call now a career criminal, his life of crime saw him spend an estimated 40 years in prison, which was only punctuated by his extraordinary service during the Second World War.

When the war started he wanted to contribute something. He went to the governor of Peterhead Prison, where he was being held at the time, and asked for help to join the forces after he got out. The governor recognised he was something special and that he could be extremely helpful to our secret services. He served his full sentence and was collected by MI5 agents at the gate.

Ramensky was known for his athleticism and aced basic military training before he was parachuted behind enemy lines in Nazi-occupied Europe. One early success was at the Italian port city La Spezia.

Johnny was able to hide himself in the mountains and used a compass to direct RAF bombers to the harbour. He was also a smashing saboteur and blew up a lot of railway lines. And after the Germans fled Rome, Johnny was able to recover a huge volume of secret documents from locked safes, which were very helpful in the conclusion of the war.

Ramensky also spent time in North Africa and almost had the opportunity to kill Nazi military commander Erwin Rommel. He broke into Rommel’s headquarters and unfortunately Rommel was on the front line. Had Rommel been there the course of the war would have changed because he would have been prepared to kill him. Of course, he did also break into Rommel’s safe and got plans that were helpful.

Mr.Ramensky’s wartime exploits formed the basis of the 1958 film ‘The Safecracker’, starring Mr.Ray Milland.

After the war Johnny went back to his old ways, even jumping off the train to blow open a safe on the way back to Glasgow hours after he was demobbed. . He went to blow a safe at a bank in York because his criminal contacts tipped him off. He has been described as an adrenaline addict. He seemed to like danger.

When he got back to Glasgow he became a folk hero because people had heard about his exploits in the army. Various people offered him employment, including one of the big demolition companies. But that wasn’t exciting enough for him.

Even in his declining years when his physicality began to leave him he still couldn’t settle down. He tried to be a bookie but lost all of his own money, because he was a gambler. He never really went straight.

Ramensky died aged 67 in 1972 while a prisoner in Perth. He kept diaries which were burned by prison authorities, but one early extract survived.

It read: “Each man has an ambition and I have fulfilled mine long ago. I cherish my career as a safe blower. In childhood days my feet were planted in the crooked path and took firm root. To each one of us is allotted a niche and I have found mine. Strangely enough, I am happy. For me the die is cast and there is no turning back.”

There has been talk a fmovie about Johnny being made, but it is still to happen.

There’s a 7 minute film bout Johnny with the author of his biography, Robert Jeffrey, who I sourced most of the info for this post, and retired Glesga polisman, Les Brown, who tells of his dealings with Gentle Johnny. The Roddy McMillan song is playing throughout the clip.

That’s not the end of Johnny Gently though, he lives on at Peterhead Prison, now a museum where Ramensky served so many years behind bars, has created a exhibition space which highlights different aspects of his career.

You can get his biography by Robert Jeffrey for only £3.39, kindle version and £5.56 hardback at Amazon, I have also seen it on Ebay uk delivered for as low as £2.11

Let Ramensky Go.

There was a lad in Glesga town, Ramensky was his name

Johnny didnae know it then but he was set for fame

Now Johnny was a gentle lad, there was only one thing wrong

He had an itch to strike it rich and trouble came along

He did a wee bit job or two, he blew them open wide

But they caught him and they tried him and they bunged him right inside

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh

Open up your prison gates

And let Ramensky go

And when they let him out he said he’d do his best but then

He yielded tae temptation and they bunged him in again

Now Johnny made the headlines, entertained the boys below

When he climbed up tae the prison roof and gave a one-man show

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh

Open up your prison gates

And let Ramensky go

But when the war was raging the brass-hats had a plan

Tae purloin some information, but they couldnae find a man

So they nobbled John in prison, asked if he would take a chance

Then they dropped him in a parachute beyond the coast of France

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh

Open up your prison gates

And let Ramensky go

Then Johnny was a hero, they shook him by the hand

For stealing secret documents frae the German High Command

So Johnny was rewarded for the job he did sae well

They granted him a pardon frae the prison and the cell

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh

Open up your prison gates

And let Ramensky go

But Johnny was in error when he tried his hand once more

For they caught him at a blastin’, and it wasnae worth the score

The jury pled for mercy, but the judge’s voice was heard

Ten years without remission, and that’s my final word

Ten years, my lord, that’s far too long, wee Johnny cried in vain

For if you send me up for ten I’ll never come out again

Oh give me another chance, my lord, I’m tellin’ you no lie

But if you send me up for ten I’ll sicken and I’ll die

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh

Open up your prison gates

And let Ramensky go

Now Peterhead’s a fortress, its walls are thick and stout

But it couldnae hold wee Johnny when he felt like walking out

Five times he took a powder, he left them in a fix

And every day they sweat and pray in case he makes it six

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh

Open up your prison gates

And let Ramensky go

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh

Open up your prison gates

And let Ramensky go

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh

Open up your prison gates

And let Ramensky go………

[handeaux]

18 Modern Words That Had Very Different And Curious Meanings In Old Cincinnati

Some words we use daily today meant something totally different more than a century past. Here are a few normal, everyday terms that once had surprisingly altered definitions long ago in Cincinnati.

Affinity In the early 1900s, “affinity” meant something very much like “soulmate” does today. In Cincinnati newspapers, “affinity” usually shows up in articles about divorce. Many a husband sought a divorce because he had found his “affinity”, and it wasn’t the woman he was married to. Jacob Pels told the Cincinnati Post [31 October 1907] on the occasion of his second divorce: “Twice I thought I found my affinity, and twice I made a bad mistake.”

Blue Today, if you’re blue, you are mildly depressed. Back in Old Cincinnati, “blue” meant risqué, or even obscene. Cincinnati ministers erupted in indignation when Millie DeLeon, the “Girl In Blue” (wink, wink!) performed at Heuk’s People’s Theater on Vine Street in 1901. And, when Cincinnati Redlegs Manager Clark Griffith excoriated the team after a dismal spring training game in Georgia, the telegraph company refused to carry the Enquirer’s dispatch [14 March 1909]: “Wishing to be perfectly accurate, we wrote out the rest that Griff said, but the telegraph man would not send it. He said his wire was a family wire of good and regular habits, and he would not insult it by asking it to carry a lot of blue language.”

Boom This old term had nothing to do with firecrackers or other explosions. It meant to promote, or to hype, or to publicize. When Judge Andrew J. Pruden wrote to the editor praising a Cincinnati Post editorial, the Post headlined his letter [6 January 1893]: “Judge Pruden Indorses The Post In Its Efforts to Boom The City.” An editorial an 1888 edition the old McMicken Review at the University of Cincinnati encouraged students to “Boom the ‘Varsity!” Cynical Thomas Emery, a pioneer real estate developer, told the Post [1 July 1886] he was concerned about future investments: “Boom Cincinnati? Can you boom a dead dog? I don’t mean that Cincinnati is dead exactly, but she’s overbuilt.”

Brace To brace somebody meant to cheat them, and Cincinnati was swarming with galoots just salivating at the opportunity to brace someone. The bracers needed to watch out who they braced, though. Frank Y. Grayson in his classic “Pioneers of Night Life” tells the tale of Frank James, Jesse’s brother, getting fleeced at a Cincinnati card game: “James dropped $800 on the night. He knew that he had been braced. Before he left he said genially, ‘Well, boys, I’ll say one thing for you, you get it easier than I do.’”

Cake We’re not talking pastry here. This word figures into one of the most obscure lines in Ernest Lawrence Thayer’s classic “Casey at the Bat” from 1888:

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;

A “hoodoo” we still recognize as a jinx, but a “cake”? In 1888, everyone knew that a cake was a fool. Within the context of baseball, a cake was a loser.

Candlelight Many a romantic evening has been conducted by candlelight. In the days before electricity, “candlelight” was a time of day, specifically that time of evening when you lit your candles. The Cincinnati Gazette [11 June 1857] presented this line: “The preacher gave notice that, if the weather was fair, he would preach at candlelight, but, as it sprinkled a little, there was no congregation.”

Card There is not much call for classified advertisements these days, when everything is advertised online. Ads used to be the main source of income for newspapers, who called small advertisements “cards,” as in this example from the Enquirer [22 November 1890]: “Mrs. Pollock did not stop at advertising her business in circulars. She inserted a card in the Sunday Newsdealer.”

Cockpit Did you ever wonder why the place an airplane pilot sits is called a cockpit? It’s named for an actual pit in which roosters (or cocks) fought to the death. Cock-fighting was popular in Cincinnati, though intermittently illegal. The Cincinnati Commercial [11 January 1847] advertised a new venue: “A regular Cock Pit having been established in the rear of the “Lunch House,” fights will take place three times a week.” If cock-fighting was too high-class, Cincinnati also hosted rat-pits from time to time in which small dogs battled rodents.

Combination Strictly speaking, in the 1800s, a “circus” was that entertainment taking place withing a sawdust “ring” which in Latin was “circus.” The other aspects of the modern circus – the traveling zoo known as the “menagerie” and the “side-show” or “exposition” – were considered separate enterprises. The first impresarios to “combine” all of these shows called them “combinations.” So, we have the Cincinnati Gazette [8 June 1872] reporting: “Warner’s big combination show attracted an immense crowd of spectators yesterday afternoon and evening.” And old John Robinson advertised his traveling spectacular as “Robinson’s Great Combination.”

Dashboard We use “dashboard” today to talk about status displays on our computer screens, which derived from the instrument panel in our automobiles, which referred to the array of gauges and dials in an aeroplane. But there was a much earlier and practical use of this word as the actual wooden board at the front of a carriage that kept stones and mud from being kicked into the driver’s face. From the Cincinnati Dollar Weekly Times [1 November 1855]: “The mare was put between the thills of a nice light buggy, her harness thoroughly adjusted by the owner, the reins carefully laid over the dashboard, and the usual chapter of advice opened concerning her management.”

Drummer An old definition of this word, metaphoric in origin, has nothing to do with music. A drummer was a salesperson, usually a traveling salesman, and usually a man on commission. The Enquirer [22 December 1871] reported: “The State of Maryland has in force a statute similar to that of Tennessee and several other States, which classes ‘drummers’ selling goods by sample for houses out of the State with peddlers, and exacts a license from them so heavy as to prohibit effectually sales in those States.”

Embarrassed If you realize, after ordering at an expensive restaurant, that you left your wallet at home, you might be embarrassed. That is close to the old-time definition of this word. It meant bankrupt. The Cincinnati Gazette [27 April 1837] related the story of a scoundrel named John Law: “With him perished all Law’s hopes for regaining his personal fortune. He became embarrassed; suits were commenced against him.”

Grocery So many old-time groceries offered liquor by the glass that “grocery” came to mean almost any saloon that emphasized the hard stuff over beer. Here’s the Western Christian Advocate [20 May 1836]: “When I hear a man say ‘my cigars cost me two dollars a week’ – I should not be surprised if I see him drinking in a grocery or tavern.”

Hilarious The history of comedy reminds us that we find drunks to be humorous. Back in the day, “hilarious” did not mean funny; it meant extremely inebriated. The Enquirer [14 January 1870] recounted one such case: “Night before last, this identical phonographer, who now calls himself Henry Henderson, was found in a highly hilarious condition, enjoying the society of ugly females in a bad house on Eighth street.”

Map There are abundant synonyms for physiognomy, but Cincinnati in the 1890s had a good one – “map.” In regaling his readers with memories of post-midnight culinary delights, Frank Grayson recalled Simon the Hot-Corn Man, who slathered his steaming ears of corn with “a substance that passed as butter.” Grayson recollected how “There were a lot of greasy maps decorating Vine Street in the wake of Simon.”

Queer In recent times, “queer” has settled into a linguistic niche as a sobriquet for what used to be called “alternative lifestyles.” Around 1880, however, the primary connotation of “queer” was financial. It referred to counterfeit money. The Cincinnati Gazette [28 October 1873] reported on the trial of M.Y. Morton: “He is an old gray haired man, and told the detective that he had been ‘pushing the queer’ for thirty-five years, making a good business in buying and selling counterfeit.”

Slut Ever since it became a term of sexist opprobrium, “bitch” has been ruined as the technical name for a female canine. Few today remember that “slut” was synonymous with “bitch” and also referred to distaff dogs. An advertisement in the Cincinnati Commercial Tribune [21 June 1870] sought: “Dogs – Two full blood Scotch rat terriers dog and slut. Must be a year old or older.”

Snide You rarely hear this word today outside the phrase “snide remark.” When you do, it often has the tint of sarcasm. In old Cincinnati, however, “snide” meant fake, cheap or counterfeit. The Cincinnati Daily Star [23 January 1880] recorded that “Ed. Kline was pulled in yesterday for selling ‘snide’ jewelry.” The term applied to people, too. The Enquirer [5 April 1880] noted: “A snide party styling themselves Tennessee Minstrels were rotten-egged and mobbed in Easton, Maryland, on Friday night.”

[officialauthorofanotherworld]

ROAW Stuff - Weekly Writing Post #1 (spoilers)

Hello!

Since this is just the first real post i've made that isn't an introduction, I won't talk about any lore stuff this time. The reason im doing weekly is because having a schedule feels better than doing it randomly, and also because i didnt know what to title this post. Maybe I will do it randomly anyway, we'll see. It just depends.

For future context, the series title is Record of Another World, abbreviated as ROAW. The "collection" title (encompassing the "main" series) is Party of Three. The first book will likely also be called Party of Three. idk if that makes sense.

So I suppose like how you have A Song of Ice and Fire - Game of Thrones, or A Song of Ice and Fire - A Tale of Dunk and Egg, you have Record of Another World - Book 1, Party of Three, Party of Three(?) idk lol

In any case, in this post I wanted to go over who the people in my book are in a bit more detail, as that feels like an appropriate first "real" post, to me.

Taka

Starting off with our main POV, we have Taka. When he was born, his parents didn't want to deal with the burden of a child, so they gave him up to a lizardfolk who had been a part of their party for a very long time. This lizardfolk, named Dane, became Taka's adoptive parent. At the beginning of book 1, Taka has just turned fifteen, the age of majority in Kommodia (and the age one is allowed to register as an adventurer) and wants to experience the world for himself.

He may have seen a lot of the world traveling on Dane's ship (Dane is a captain with his very own port, and at a certain point became responsible for the Advent Route, which is the sea path from ports to adventurer-centric towns.) but he wants to see it on his own two legs, of his own volition. He wants to explore, and meet new people, try new things. He wants to live, and satisfy the intense wanderlust he'd harbored for so long.

Even still, he is very young at fifteen, and has a lot of anxiety and worries.

Taka is neurodivergent, like most people in my book are in some way. He has ADHD and Autism.

Soon enough, Taka finds himself wrapped up in a world of adventure, surrounded by people he never thought he'd meet, friends with people he never could have possibly thought he'd befriend.

Beriyl

Next up is Beriyl! He is a half-elf who hails from a very prestigious noble family. While he can come off as abrasive and even incendiary at times, he has his moments of genuine caring and warmth. He connects with Taka on a very deep level, I think.

Beriyl is probably one of my favorites to write because he's a know-it-all, he possesses a very large vocabulary and REALLY wants to show it off. He's spent so much time cooped up reading, his brain is a literal vault of random tidbits and facts. He is a textbook bookworm, and he *will *make sure you know it. He's very snarky and sarcastic and I find some of his exchanges with Taka really funny. Their dynamic, although it softens with time, is one of my favorite things ever. Not unlike Taka, I believe Beriyl also has Autism.

Arthur

Last of team Lucky Seven, Arthur.

When we first meet him, he's incredibly depressed, giving off this awful vibe of a man who has all but given up. He hasn't slept in days, probably hasn't eaten or drank much either. His eyes dark pits of horrible despair, but gradually he learns to live again, to love and forgive himself.

The rest is a bit spoiler-y, revealed within the first half of the book. I will be spoiler marking it, but just so you all know! (The stuff at the end about Rend is never revealed, so that counts as lore i guess)

Anyway, pretty big spoilers actually, and i cant hide them because tumblr doesnt have a spoiler text feature for some reason, and i cant figure it out with html or anything. All of this is revealed at roughly 55% through the book or so, so i guess it is pretty massive spoilers. Don't read the stuff about Arthur, skip down to the Advent Route if you don't want to be spoiled on Arthur's backstory and my read on his mental state.

Arthur is a sufferer of extreme PTSD, he likely has DID. When he tells Taka and Beriyl of his past, of how he felt when his friend and family died, when his town was razed to the ground, I believe it's really hard for him to really stay "present". I think he probably suffers from an extreme emotional block, he feels very absent and er, numb, I think is the right word. When he was a mercenary, I don't imagine he was truly himself. I do think he created a separate persona who didn't think or feel just so he could get through it. At that point I think he was just biding his time until he died, only truly happy when he was able to do things that reminded him of his parents like train or cook. Yet, we see that when he meets Taka and Beriyl, he starts to look better. He starts to sleep, to eat. He makes Taka and Beriyl his life's goal, his one true priority. He becomes unhealthily co-dependent on their safety and existence, so I think that reflects in how overwhelmingly overprotective he is, how quick he is to justify violence in the sake of defending Taka and Beriyl. Without them, he never would have had the "color" restored to his world. He'd still be wandering in a storm without a light. Taka and Beriyl are that light-- without them, he would be dead, most likely.||

Hell. He says it himself: how he tells them he'd become an adventurer to die helping someone, so he'd have an excuse for Rend in the afterlife.

(little does he know, Rend died young enough, and as a person who was isekaied to Tamalnh without his memories from Earth, the Gods allowed him to reincarnate again. He is the Spear Warrior that Taka asks for directions to the guild in Chapter 1.) I will elaborate more on how this works, how the afterlife and things like that work, and summoning and blablabla, all will be explained in a future post.

some minor adjustments 8-26-24. Rend cannot be the Spear Warrior, iirc Arthur was a merc for about 10-15 years, from 18-26? i think? Smth like that, anyway, that means Spear Warrior would have had to have been born the instant Rend died, so... it makes more sense to believe he isn't the Spear Warrior, but someone else. Arthur will probably meet him (whoever rend reincarnated into) towards the end of his (arthur's) life.

Now, about the Advent Route...

The Advent Route, to be better explained, sort of works like this.

On Kommodia, the most popular starting town at present is Leln, a town named after the legendary hero who felled a Dark God several thousand years prior.

Each port runs along a prescribed route and anchors on the coastline. From the coast, adventurers are taken via carriage to the town of their choosing.

Simply put, the Advent Route is a searoute chosen specifically to maximize safety and efficiency, seeing all those who'd wish to become adventurers to their destinations with relative safety, barring extreme circumstance. It is conducted at a time of year (the book starts as summer ends.) where the water in the sea becomes cold enough that sea monsters like Krakens and such go into a state of hibernation.

I'll do a follow-up post talking about the people Lucky Seven meet at the end of ch1 and their incredibly important role in the overarching story, also with spoiler tags soon. I will also elaborate on the afterlife/reincarnation process and what that really means, how people were summoned from another world, their role, and about what a "starting town" actually means.

[twistedtummies2]

The Price May Be Right - Number 6

Welcome to “The Price May Be Right!” I’ve been counting down My Top 31 Favorite Vincent Price Performances & Appearances! The countdown will cover movies, TV productions, and many more forms of media. Today we focus on Number 6: Roderick Usher, from House of Usher.

This was the first film of the Corman-Poe Cycle by AIP, and it’s still one of the best entries of the bunch. It was also – at least in film – the first time Vincent Price worked in a Poe-related project (as far as I’m aware). Naturally, the importance of this 1960 feature – both for Vincent, and for the recognition of Poe’s work in cinema – can hardly be exaggerated. And while the previous pick on the countdown, “The Pit and the Pendulum,” is in some ways superior to this venture…I personally think Vincent’s role and performance in this particular tale is even better than it was in the later picture. “House of Usher” is a more or less straightforward adaptation of Poe’s story “Fall of the House of Usher.” I say more or less because, while it generally follows the plot and even adapts the characters of Poe’s story in a generally faithful manner, there is one big difference to the tale: in the book, the main character (an unnamed narrator) is visiting the house as a friend to Roderick Usher. That is not the case in the movie: in the movie, our main character is one Philip Winthrop (played by Mark Damon), who comes to the titular mansion to seek the hand of his intended fiancé: Roderick’s brother, Madeline. For numerous reasons, however, Roderick refuses to let Madeline leave the house. He repeatedly tries to get Winthrop to leave, but Winthrop refuses to depart without his beloved, and Madeline pleads with Roderick to let him stay for at least a while. As Philip spends a few days in his fiance’s ancestral home, he soon discovers the horrible history of the Usher family. He must now try to get Madeline to leave, before the madness that seems to infect her lineage consumes her whole life… In many ways, the film bears several resemblances to the later “Pit and the Pendulum”: a young man coming to a spooky place full of secrets, trying to solve some kind of mystery and help a woman he is close to in some fashion. Similarly, in some ways, Price’s character of Don Medina in the later picture is similar to Roderick…but with one key difference. Don Medina is a victim as much as a villain; that cannot be said for Roderick Usher. Roderick is a classic case of what might be termed a sympathetic villain: like Don Medina, he is a tortured soul, teetering on the brink of madness due to personal problems. The difference is that Don Medina is someone trying to avoid the shadow, and who ultimately succumbs: Roderick is someone who has, on some level, already embraced the darkness. Indeed, that is perhaps the greatest tragedy of Roderick’s character: he’s someone who doesn’t WANT to be the bad guy, but feels he HAS to be. He says a couple of times that he holds no ill will toward Philip, and he is clearly highly devoted to his sister (at times to an unsettling degree), but he fears the results of what a marriage between her and Winthrop could lead to. His thoughts are plagued at all times by the supposed curse on his family line, and his life is one spent in constant torment, as he is afflicted with a strange condition that heightens his senses to a dangerous degree. He cannot bear to taste anything but bland gruel; he can’t stand to be touched because of how it hurts his skin; every sound is magnified for him to an alarming rate. You really do feel sorry for the guy, because he’s clearly a depressed wreck who feels he’s trapped in a gloomy world. What makes him the villain, ultimately, is his inability to accept that there could be a chance for others to have happiness he cannot. The extreme lengths he goes to in order to break off the romance are what truly make him the bad guy by the end. The other major difference between Roderick and Don Medina is the way they are performed. With Don Medina, Price gives an intense performance that brings his full “ham energy” out, but with Roderick, he delivers a much more delicate, subtle, and eerily methodical performance. Given the aforementioned affliction, Roderick is a character who works in a claustrophobic manner: his voice is soft and often kept at the same near-monotonous level, yet the little inflections and the ways Vincent plays with the syllables allow him to turn every word into masterful poetry. His expression I almost eternally set in a grim-faced scowl, yet the smallest changes to the eyes and mouth mean so much as a result. In the moments where Roderick’s full horror at the situations around him comes out – when he suddenly breaks through his own armor and shows the torment underneath – it becomes truly startling. He is in equal parts an extremely creepy and unnerving figure in the story, due to his appearance and his demeanor…and yet a tragic and pitiful character as well, as we realize he truly believes what he’s saying and doing is what is necessary, if not always right. Those are often among the most compelling antagonists, and this is no exception. It’s definitely a highlight for Vincent’s work with Poe. Tomorrow, the countdown continues into the Top 5!

[go-go-devil]

14 & 16 ?

14) Describe your feelings on Disney’s animated film catalogue (and/or Pixar as a separate studio and as a conglomerate of the Disney corporation)

As much as I despise Disney as a company, I can't deny that their films were a huge part of my childhood as well as a major player in developing my undying love for the art of animation. I'm mostly talking about their older, 2D films, as their 3D films I grew up with really never stuck w/ me as closely and I admittedly haven't even a new film from them since Zootopia back in 2016

With Pixar my feelings aren't quite as complicated. Their 90's and 2000's output still remain some of my favorite 3D animated films of all time (except Cars simply because it never really make me feel anything for it, good or bad). Yet after Up came out and they were forced to do a bunch of sequels after being bought out by Disney I stopped caring about their film output, especially since their style of 3D animation became homogenized to the point where it looked no different from a Disney film. I could rant about this further but I don't wanna turn this into an essay...

Anyway, here's a list of my favorite Disney films in no particular order: Alice in Wonderland, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Mulan, Robin Hood, Fantasia, The Lion King 1 & 2

And here are my favorite Pixar films also in no particular order: The Incredibles, Monsters Inc., A Bug's Life, Toy Story 1 & 2, Finding Nemo, WALL-E (though I will admit as of late I feel this film has a few serious issues that hampers my enjoyment of it)

16) Are there any animated films that you think deserve to be in the Criterion Collection? What is your overall opinion on their current collection of animated features?

There are dozens upon dozens of animated films I think should be in the Criterion Collection because quite frankly their animation catalogue is still a sad joke

Like I'm glad that there's at least more than 3 films inducted into the collection now. I'm glad that they have recognized Lotte Reniger's and Suzan Pit's work as well as many animated works outside of America, England, and France. But good gods they're still SO MUCH that deserve to be in there!

Where the hell is Akira, one of the most influential anime of all time?

If Watership Down is (rightfully) in there than why not also The Plague Dogs, an equally beloved adaptation of Richard Adam's work?

Caroline Leaf was one of the pioneering filmmakers for Canada's National Film Board, so why aren't her animated masterpieces featured in here?

How come none of Yuri Norstein's films aren't on there despite being one of Hayao Miyazaki's greatest influences and the fact that Tale of Tales is still considered by many to be the greatest animated short film ever made?

I mean fuck where's Princess Mononoke or ANY Ghibli film for that matter?!

(Also for those curious the only Disney/Pixar film in their collection is WALL-E, and it's one of the seven animated films that are available in their dvd/blu-ray collection..)

It's just so depressing to me because many people still consider the collection to be a stronghold for the some of the most important works of film ever made. The fact that so little animation is featured on there feeds into the lie that mature, thoughtfully made animated films are a rare find, as well as the idea that animation as a medium is inherently less valuable than live action films, and that pisses me off to no end >:(

[memyselfandi2008-blog]

"Throw me in the dirt pit; don't think about the choices that you make." (T)

Pairing(s): Implied/Referenced Jerry Smith/Beth Smith, Rick Sanchez & Jerry Smith

WARNINGS!: Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse

Word Count:

(A/N): The second half of this was requested by LuciferSPN on AO3.

Summary: Jerry is very tired.

"Loving you is work, Jerry."

Looking back, he often wondered if he was in the wrong. Maybe if he had been kinder, more careful, patient, he wouldn't have resorted to carefully folding and packing all of his belongings into a suitcase that sat on his side of the bed. Then, he realized how stupid that sounded. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he put into their relationship, nothing would ever be good enough for Beth, or even the kids, or anyone, really.

Rick had successfully taken one of the few good things about his life, and twisted it into some big, jumbled mess that hated him to his core. He frowned, turning to look at the small picture on his nightstand. The family photo had been taken shortly after Rick had moved in with them, "To celebrate," as Beth put it. He stared at it for several seconds, a lump forming in his throat.

Maybe it was better this way, maybe they were better off without him...

Carefully, he laid the picture face down, a scowl on his lips. No, he told himself. He was better off without them.

"Jerry," Beth called from downstairs, "It's almost dinner time."

He silently wondered if he should bother replying, lips parting to try and form some type of strung together words that qualified as a sentence, but nothing came to him. He closed his suitcase and grabbed his wallet front the nightstand, being sure that he had his bus pass before making his way downstairs.

Jerry paused, just short of the front door, glancing at his family sitting at the kitchen table, distracted by the whimsical tales they had made during their day. Some part of him wanted to give them one last farewell, at the very least, to his kids.

"Don't insult my father. He's the reason our kids are only half-stupid."

"I don't give a fuck what you think, Jerry."

"Because if you move the bar so low, you might actually seem like you're worth a fuck."

"Now, quit fucking up, and let's go."

The words echoed in the back of his head as he shifted his gaze between each of the people he thought cared about him. Despite how often he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror, he still couldn't speak the words that had been stuck in his throat for the longest time. It shouldn't have been hard for him to say. It was a simple one word sentence, and yet...

Swallowing thickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to slip from his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak, "Goodbye..." was lost in the fit of laughter that filled the kitchen. He shouldn't have expected anything less, just as always. He faded away into obscurity.

Jerry heaved a sigh, turning to the front door and stepping out of the house that had lost all of it's warmth, quietly closing it behind him.

This would be better, he told himself, he would be better.

———

He glanced around at the small apartment as he took a seat on the sofa in the living room, hands drumming impatiently on his knee.

The apartment actually looked decent. It was clean, and smelled like lemons—it reminded Rick of how the house would smell after one of Jerry's infamous deep cleans. Of course, it still looked like the apartment of an unemployed, single man. Small TV, single bed tucked off in the corner, barely any decorations occupying the walls—it was, honestly, kinda depressing.

"Tea?" Jerry asked from in the kitchen, already starting up his small kettle.

"Nah, I'm fine," Rick muttered in reply, leaning back in his seat, "This place is fucking depressing," he stated flatly, waiting expectantly for some type of response. As much as he hated to admit it, he wanted—needed Jerry back at the house. It's not like he—he missed him or anything. Jerry leaving without Beth forcing him out just threw a wrench in his plans, and he needed to fix it.

Jerry scoffed at the insult. He would have shot back a rebuttal, but decided to ignore it, "You draw the short end of the stick?" he asked, grabbing a cup from one of the cabinets, "Can't see any other reason why you'd be here," he tried to hide the annoyance in his voice as he dug through one of the drawers, grabbing a box of tea.

"Look, Jerry," Rick sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, "Everyone is still pissed you just left without saying anything—"

"Okay, and?"

"'And?'" Rick echoed, shooting a look, that he would not file under surprise, Jerry's way, "That—that's really all you have to say?"

"I told Beth if she and the kids wanted to come see me, they could," Jerry kept his voice even, calm, as he remembered the phone call he received from her shortly after he left. She had bombarded him with questions, snapping at him for walking out on his family, for being so selfish. He sighed, "I'm not shutting them out of my life," he explained, turning to face Rick, "Some part of me still cares about them, and I don't know what kind of person I'd be if I abandoned my family like that."

"If you care about them so much, then come back to the house," Rick's voice was venomous, an underlying threat behind those words as he stood up from the sofa, glare piercing.

Jerry wouldn't falter. Not this time, not like so many times before. He returned the glare, eyes meeting with Rick's, "No," his voice was stern.

Rick tried to fight off the look of utter fear that tried to form on his face, "What?" he couldn't help the shaky breath that left him. This was bad. Very bad.

"The only reason you want me to go back to that house is because you'll look like a hero," Jerry's gaze was determined, never leaving Rick's as he walked over to the scientist, "Why else would you be here? We both know you don't actually care about me."

The words stung more than they probably should have. His gaze broke from Jerry's, eyes growing softer as he desperately tried to ignore the weight in his gut, "If you weren't going to come back, why'd you invite me in?"

"Because," Jerry's voice was quiet, "I'm not going back to that... life," he bit back the word that wanted to leave his tongue, "But I'm not shutting out my family," he paused for a moment, before adding, "And as much as I hate to admit it, that includes you."

Nothing could ever be easy for him, could it? Rick sighed, shoulders relaxing, "Fine," he turned to leave, already digging for his portal gun. He'd need to try again, need to thing of some other way to convince Jerry to come back.

"Tell Beth I wish her well," Jerry watched as Rick went out the front door, his shoulders unwinding.

Some part of him knew that wouldn't be the last time he'd get a visit from Rick asking him to come back home on Beth's behalf, and some other part of him knew he'd always give the same response to the confrontation. No matter what, he told himself, he wasn't going back to that house. Even if it killed him, even if it was his last resort, he wasn't going back.

[all-devouring-history-hub]

I'm sorry that your blog had to end like this. I get needing to start anew and wanting your ideas to be the best they can be, that's why @poisonrozen created @despair-to-future-arcs as a reboot for @neo-world-program-moniter. I'm also sorry that you seemed to feel so isolated since February, and all of the bullying that has gone on for so long in your life. I'm glad you're alive after the devastation of Helene, and I'm just glad in general that you're alive. Even if @a-tale-never-told never comes to pass in any other form, I'll always be fond of the ideas and history that came with it. And if you do decide to bring it back in some way, I'll be there waiting with my own ideas and asks for these crazy kids. Either way, I'd be more than happy to be your friend, and talk with you as much as you please. I mean it

//Yeah. It truly is depressing, laboring tirelessly and churning out posts only for them to be barely acknowledged by anyone outside of my fanbase. In all honesty, I should really count my blessings that I'm even still being brought up in conversation by others who're relatively unaware of this blog's existence, instead of being disregarded and effectively reduced to an unknown.

//Even then, part of this feels like I hold some form of accountability for all of this since my mental instability has undergone a freefall into the pits of deluded fear-mongering, and I never even bothered to have a healthy conversation to disclose my personal opinions about the state of this blog and how others treated it. But if we're being completely real here, who even wanted to talk about this?

//I get it, I'm a bit mentally volatile when it comes to discussing the performance and expectations of the story, big whoop. In no universe does that justify me sardonically berating and harassing the individuals who constantly take time out of their everyday lives to listen to what I have to say, and formulate false perceptions of why the blog isn't accomplishing what it's supposed to provide. We've deviated so far from the original idea of what this blog was supposed to stand for, I find it quite amusing that it took me this long to address my shortcomings.

//Craving a sense of acknowledgment and validation from those around me is an integral part of what fully defines me as a person, and I never meant to come off as being a nuisance or filthy to anyone, but this was really the wrong way to go about it.

//For all of the systematic flaws within ATAT as a whole, I sincerely don't want it to suffer premature death or simply be vastly overshadowed and left to decompose into a pile of waste. Since there's nobody else within the Tumblr community pursuing the subgenre of alternate history as passionately to the extent that an entire blog revolves around it, it lies within me to deliver a model of content that is best suited to everyone's preferences.

//As you can probably tell though, these aspirations automatically did not equate well to gaining the approval of both communities. Nowadays, I'm far more invested in gathering proper evidence to support my hypothetical claims, hence why I have expressed my intentions to take the alternate timeline element much more seriously and in an informative and readable manner.

//In simpler terms, I'm pretty proud of the concept of analyzing and deconstructing various types of lore and offering insightful commentary on said lore, and why shouldn't I be? It sounds like a very engrossing and productive hobby, and there's a hidden market for that sort of genre on Tumblr.

//All in all, I don't necessarily agree with my previous stance, per se. But it inarguably provided quite an insightful look into just how warped my perceptions and idealistic, nonsensical expectations were for this blog. Looking at it, I see this as more of a learning experience to note down and serve as a constant reminder of what I could potentially accomplish instead of penalizing myself for every single misconception and error I promoted.

[blakesuga]

Little Things #19: The End of Evangelion

Once again, I can confidently say that I was perplexed and mind-jumbled after watching The End of Evangelion movie. I will say that I did enjoy the art style and the creative directing after seeing how the creators showed their artful mastery as they displayed the beginning of the end where humanity combines as one (I think). Since I barely understood what I was seeing in the movie, I watched a quick summary of the final film and I was finally able to get the gist of the animated plot. Essentially, the movie poses as an alternative dark ending to the previous ending of the TV series Neon Genesis Evangelion in which the hopeful ending was hinted at. The final episode of the series shows that Shinji ultimately overcomes his depression and self-hatred in favor of saving humanity from the doomsday cult's advances. The film shows the reality of the world if Shinji chose not to save humanity and instead continued to run away from owning up to his responsibilities as an Evangelion warrior. He feels trapped since he claimed that whenever he tried to help, he instead either hurt himself or others around him. Henceforth, he decides that if he does nothing and avoids interfering, then someone will eventually solve his problems so can continue to live in ignorance.

The movie serves as a complex and intriguing cautionary tale of how complacency in one's life should be avoided if we are destined to achieve bigger goals. We are also encouraged to not constantly feed our minds into our delusional desires or else it will separate humanity's connection with each other, pitting us against each other to a point of no return. In fact, some people say that the reason why the film containing the alternative ending even exists is because Evangelion fans were unhappy with the unrealistic happy ending that was the original ending in the series. The original creator of the series was also struggling with depression and after reading a psychology book on the human self, he wanted to respond to the worldwide backlash that he was receiving for the first ending by distinctly referencing how we need to forgo the delusions that we feed ourselves to counter disunity. So in actuality, the series creator was able to put his ideas and theories into fruition in reality.

[mechlizard]

A Silent Voice

On the surface, this movie is about a deaf girl who is bullied mercilessly and the bully who tries to atone for his mistreatment. But underneath, this movie is actually about depression, its coping mechanisms, and how someone can try to pull themselves out of that pit. Despite the dark tone, it is a well-written story that is very clearly written by someone who has experienced some of what the characters have experienced. It's also a feeling that most viewers have experienced, some more than others.

This movie shows that depression can manifest and fester deep down, far from the visible surface of everyone else. Shōko, the deaf main character, does her very best to present a happy outward appearance, but when she's alone, she is shown to have a deep depression that she isn't able to have normal social interactions. Shōya presents himself as an outgoing joker, but inside he is pained with guilt and, in turn, shuts himself off from everyone as atonement.

Shōko's note wanting to make amends for something that isn't her fault. Very reminiscent of something that an abuse victim might express.

This movie made me deeply uncomfortable, which I believe is partially what the movie was going for. It very effectively shows what some of the darkest moments can be for someone going through life with a disability. But it also eventually turned into a heartwarming tale of atonement and a group effort to pull each other out of depression. The animation, backgrounds, pacing, and character design are all fantastic and make the uncomfortable moments a bit more bearable.

"...that we're all friends." A moment of realization for the main character what it feels like to be happy. Realization that it's okay to be happy despite being a terrible person in the past.

The one thing that I would criticize this movie for is that Shōya made amends with Naoka, the girl in middle school who also bullied Shōko. I get that the theme of the movie is making amends. But Naoka displays no redeemable qualities in the entire movie and actively goes out of her way to make people's lives worse. Yet she is still accepted into the friend group. While I can't expect a movie with this amount of emotional complexity to give her a physical or verbal slap and leave her, the real adult thing would be to cut her out of the friend group and Shōya's life. I feel the movie would benefit from having a final scene with Shōya empathizing with Naoka but refusing to keep in touch with her as she is actively toxic to everyone. It would show that he has gotten into a healthy enough mindset that he can set boundaries against toxic relationships. Something that people with a bad mindset struggle to do.

Shortly after Naoka assaults Shōko for the crime of saying "I don't hate you, I hate myself." Likely a large contributor to her suicide attempt. Even Disney villains would be humbled with how unapologetically evil this girl is.

[jennyviviandee]

It is The Brave Little Toaster's (1987) 36th birthday.

Contains SPOILERS.

I think this movie really shaped many facets of myself more than realized. Not certain what that says about me. Anyways, my favorite sequences in terms of art design, animation, writing, voicework, music, and narrative are essentially scarier or I suppose more disturbing moments: the Air Conditioner's meltdown caused by a combination of rage and depression, Toaster's nightmare, the waterfall, the mud pit, the blender's destruction shifting between being shown and shadows, the song "It's a 'B' Movie (Show)", the song "Worthless", all of them running and hiding from the magnet, and the Master almost meeting his death in the junkyard if not for what seemed to be Toaster's sacrifice.

Ihave seen this movie a lot (both as a kid and an adult) and have always liked it. A tale of thinking they were abandoned anthropomorphic appilances embarking on an ultimately harrowing journey to find their lost Master. "Worthless" always comes to my mind when pondering about mortality. The legendary Phil Hartman (1948-1998) brings two characters to life a.k.a. the Air Conditioner and Peter Lorre (1904-1964) sounding ceiling lamp. As a side note, I always dug the look of the character Chris: she sports a red jacket and a bright pink cap.

To this day I haven't read the 1980 Thomas M. Disch novel that lead to the animated adaptation though. I probably should. Nor viewed the sequels either.

The Brave Little Toaster (1987) Directed by Jerry Rees